


Tea with Mrs. H

by PlainJane



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, mentions of domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 21:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlainJane/pseuds/PlainJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Woman is history, but Molly is still pining. Mrs. H offers some tea and sage advice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea with Mrs. H

“Molly?”

The young woman with the long ponytail turned. “Oh, hello, Mrs. Hudson. How are you?”

“I’m just fine, dear. And you?” Martha transferred her shopping bag to her other hand and removed her keys from her pocket.

Molly retreated from where she had been pressing the bell for 221B. Martha stepped in and set her key to the lock.

“If you’re looking for the boys, they’ve gone off to Devon for a few days.” She pushed the door open and hesitated.

“Devon?” Molly sounded as disappointed as she looked, but quickly schooled her features into a shy smile. “Oh, well, I guess that’s all right. I probably should have rung first anyway…”

“Why don’t you come in for a cuppa, if you have a minute?” Martha gestured toward her own flat. “I’ve got some lovely ginger biscuits, baked this morning.”

“I, uhm…” Molly bit her lip. “If I won’t be keeping you from anything.”

“Not at all, dear. I would love the company.” Martha winked at her. “Come on, get yourself in.”

Martha shooed the younger woman down the hall and into her own small, cosy kitchen. She switched on the kettle and kept up a steady stream of chatter as she set out cups and saucers and a plate of the promised biscuits.

When she glanced around again, she discovered Molly was sat at the table still wearing her jacket. Her shoulders were hunched and she looked just a little defeated. Martha clucked her tongue.

“You’ll get terribly warm sitting in here wearing that,” she said kindly. “Where are my manners?” She tugged the oversized garment from the younger woman’s shoulders. “I’ll just hang this by the door for you.”

She set the jacket on a peg near the door and returned to fill the teapot.

“So what brings you to see Sherlock and John today?” she asked cheerfully, setting the tea tray on the table. She settled into her own chair across from Molly. “Did Sherlock leave something at the hospital again?” She shook her head. “Such a careless boy.”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t like that,” Molly started. “No, I mean…he didn’t leave anything behind.”

“I see,” Martha said gently. She poured the tea and offered a cup to Molly.

“I just — Sherlock…he’s been acting strangely since…that woman,” Molly stammered. “I had a day free. Thought I would pop in and say ‘Hello.’”

“Well, that’s nice, isn’t it?” Martha smiled and took a sip of her tea. “I’m sure that woman, whoever she was, is long forgotten by now.” She caught and held Molly’s gaze. “Sherlock is a very charming young man, when he wants to be…but we both know that isn’t very often.”

Molly blushed bright pink and stared down into her teacup. Martha reached across the table and patted one of Molly’s hands.

“Did you know,” Martha began. “I was barely 20 years old when I got married?”

Molly glanced up, clearly caught off guard. “Oh?”

“That’s right. I was very fanciful when I was young. Thought a handsome prince would simply arrive one day on a white horse, and he would adore me and I would never be alone again.”

Molly looked a bit puzzled. “And did your prince come?”

Martha chuckled. “Oh, dear me, no! Heavens, no! Well, a man arrived, all right, but he was far from a prince! My husband was a brute — selfish, cruel, paranoid and violent. He loved to make me cry. Thought it was fun.” Martha shook her head once more and took another sip of tea.

Molly looked aghast. “I’m so sorry — oh, Mrs. Hudson that’s…I don’t know quite what to say.”

Martha patted her hand again. “Don’t fret, dear. He’s long gone now. Can’t hurt me anymore.”

“How did you…”

“Leave him? Ah, well, Sherlock had a hand in that,” Martha smiled broadly. “We were on holiday in Florida. Rufus got drunk and started a fight — he knocked me unconscious when I tried to intervene. By the time I woke, a man was dead and my husband was claiming it was an accident.”

“And you hired Sherlock to help?”

“My husband called Sherlock,” Martha continued. “But from the moment that unusual young man walked into the prison, I knew he would do me good in some way. I just knew it.” She cleared her throat and reached for a ginger biscuit. “Anyway, Sherlock sat with us and listened as Rufus talked, but he hardly took his eyes from me. Later, as we were leaving the prison, Sherlock took me aside and asked me quietly what I wanted him to prove.”

“What did he mean?” Molly asked, now leaning in and starting on her second biscuit.

Martha sighed. “He told me when my husband had last hit me and where, and which of my bones the man had broken. He knew I’d lost a child to miscarriage because of a beating; he surmised I’d never been able to have another. When he was done, he said, ‘So, I ask you again, Martha Hudson — knowing what I know about your husband, and what I know about his case, what do _you_ want me to prove? Do you want me to give him back to you or would you prefer that I rid you of him for good?’”

Molly swallowed the last bit of her biscuit. “And you…”

“I told Sherlock to let the bastard hang,” Martha said, her voice only a little unsteady. Molly grasped her hand now and squeezed. “It’s all right, really. I hadn’t loved the man for years and he’d made his own hell. I hadn’t put him in prison, though I certainly would have if I hadn’t been afraid all those years that he would kill me.”

“I’m so sorry,” Molly said. “So very sorry. What a terrible…gosh, it’s just —”

“It is, isn’t it?” Martha shrugged. “I was so sure he was the perfect man for me. He was my prince — handsome, successful and charming. I simply couldn’t see that the charm wasn’t real. I wanted so badly for him to be the one.”

Molly blushed again. “Sometimes we all do silly things.”

“Yes, we do. We choose the wrong people to love. Sometimes it isn’t even that they are bad people, like Rufus was. No, sometimes it’s just that they aren’t right for us. And sometimes we can’t see it. Or we can’t figure out how to get ourselves free.”

“Lucky you had Sherlock,” Molly said with a sad smile.

“I am. Sherlock is very good at finding solutions for people; helping them see their way clear of unfortunate situations and people. Even if the ‘unfortunate person’ is himself.”

“What? But…I don’t…” Molly stammered.

“Of course you do, dear,” Martha soothed. “And if I were your age, I would, too. He is ever so handsome, in his way. And so terribly clever. And always after doing such wonderful things — except, by the by, when he’s shooting holes in my bloody wall.”

Molly giggled a little. “John told me about that.”

“Well, honestly,” Martha huffed. “Can you imagine what —” She waved both hands. “No, never mind. It doesn’t matter now. The point is, Sherlock has many good qualities and he can be very good at getting what he wants from people. I’m just not sure that love is something he is ever going to want from anyone.”

“I…” Molly ducked her head. “He seemed so lonely. Before. I thought I — well, he has John now anyway.”

“Yes, he does have John,” Martha mused, tapping a fingernail against her teacup.

“Are they…together…do you think?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Martha said thoughtfully. She smiled at Molly conspiratorially. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s wondered.”

Molly shook her head, still looking a little sad.

“You are such a lovely, kind and clever girl,” Martha said firmly. “And you have time to find the very best sort of person to spend your life with. Someone who will truly appreciate you and love you the way you deserve.”

“I would like that.”

Martha nodded. “And, in time, Sherlock may come to treat you with all the respect that a good and loyal friend deserves!”

Molly perked up at that. “It would make a nice change.”

“You just have to show him you won’t settle for anything less. Hold your ground.”

“Right.”

“And you decide what you will and will not put up with.”

“I decide.”

“You decide,” Martha confirmed. “More tea, dear?”

Molly smiled at her, looking relaxed for the first time since she’d arrived. “Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. I’d love some.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little drabble. Not betaed or Britpicked or anything.


End file.
